


Two Weeks (Sleep is a Distant Dream)

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Parenthood, Post Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Sunday, they’d packed Elliot up for his first car ride since coming home from the hospital, and drove to the Sheriff’s house for brunch. Most of what Derek remembers about that meal is eating delicious, homemade food someone else had cooked, and not having to split his time between his own meal and Elliot’s eat-cry-burp-vomit-cry-eat routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Weeks (Sleep is a Distant Dream)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _Derek watching Stiles cradling and crooning to their tiny baby._ I crammed in more fluff than I usually would, because I think that's what you were looking for? I tried to compromise. :D
> 
> (Also, to the people who saw me post this under my real username, shhhh!)

Stiles has been trying to soothe Elliot for almost fifteen minutes, now. Derek’s been keeping count.Stiles might bitch and moan about how Derek’s werewolf healing means it takes him longer to feel sleep deprivation, butit sort of evens out in the end.Stiles gets to sleep when Derek doesn’t shake him awake for his turn.Derek, on the other hand, wakes up every single time their son starts to cry, and can’t fall back asleep until he’s quiet again. 

It’s been a little over two weeks, and Derek has no idea how Stiles could be more exhausted than he is because Derek is officially the most tired he’s ever been in his life. If Derek were any more tired, he’d be dead. 

On Sunday, they’d packed Elliot up for his first car ride since coming home from the hospital, and drove tothe Sheriff’s house for brunch.Most of what Derek remembersabout that meal was eating delicious, homemade food someone else had cooked, and not having tosplit his time between his own meal and Elliot’s eat-cry-burp-vomit-cry-eat routine.

“You two call me if you ever want a night off,” the Sheriff had said,having undoubtedly noticed that he was feeding the living dead that morning. “The first few months are rough, and I’m an old pro.” 

“Months?” Stiles had rasped bleakly. 

There wasn’t exactly a chapter in _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_  titled “How LongTo Expect Your Life To Be A Living Hell”.

“Months,” the Sheriff had said fondly, wiping drool off of Elliot’s chin. 

It’s with great effort that Derek drags himself out of bed andacross the hall to the nursery.

There had been a long, long discussion about whether Elliot should sleep in their room and for how long, and the compromise had been one week, aided by a gift from Lydia. Stiles had been heartbroken when they’d had to leave him in his own room after the first week. 

“You can still hear his heartbeat?” Stiles hadasked, after they closedthe nursery door most of the way. 

“You can still hear it?” Stiles had asked, in their own room across the hall. 

“You can still hear him, right?” Stiles had asked, when they were lying down to sleep, and that was when Derek put a finger under his chin andtold him, “Stiles, I have spent the last seven months tracking that heartbeat, every minute of every day.I know that heartbeat like I know yours. He’s going to be _fine_.”   


Stiles had nodded, and Derek had held him close. 

 

Werewolf babies aren’t born with super-strength,or claws, orincredibly good sight and hearing (which had basically been the very first thing Stiles had asked, once he’d realized thathe was pregnant, immediately followed by another hundred related questions).Werewolf babies are identical to human babies in all regards save for their sense of smell, which is much more refined.They very quickly zero in on a select few scents: parents, pack, and food.Anything that’s not one of those three is met with a lot of crying.

This has some very obvious evolutionary benefits, but in modern society,it’s mostly a pain in the ass. 

Parental scent needs to be almost constant for infant werewolves. Derek remembers his parents having a system of blanket rotation down to a science,forever changing them out because it was only two or three days before the scent had faded too much for infant Cora to smell.

At Elliot’s birth, Lydia had gifted them with a soft plush monkey that she’d somehow charmed topermanently retain Derek’s and Stiles’ scents.Stiles has since named it Buttons. Derek maintains that Buttons is the most useful baby gift anyone has yet to give them.  

Of course, neither blankets nor Buttons are as good as the real thing. 

 

Derek opens the door to the nursery to see Stiles halfheartedly bouncing a squalling Elliot, the baby pressed against his chest. Stiles is wearing one of Derek's henleys and plaid pajama bottoms.

"Hey," Stiles says, when he spots Derek. There are dark circles under his eyes. "Sorry. I think it's some bad gas."

‘I think it’s bad gas’ is what they've been using as code for 'I don't know why he's screaming his head off right now, but he won’t stop'. 

Derek sighs and steps forward. He'd been hoping that Stiles would figure this scenting thing out by now, on his own, but he hasn't. It must be the sleep deprivation. 

"Here," Derek says, holding out his hands.

Stiles hands Elliot over, and Derek cradles him close and just stares for a moment because he still can't wrap his head around the fact that he and Stiles _made_ this tiny, pulsing, breathing thing, then presses a kiss to his dark head and looks up at Stiles. Against Derek’s bare chest,  Elliot is still crying, but it’s slowing as he realizes that the situation has changed.

Stiles’ shoulders slump in defeat.

“It’s not favoritism,” Derek says quietly. “It’s—you have to…”

Giving up on words, he snags the bottom hem of Stiles' shirt and pulls up.

Stiles smacks his hand away, jerking back. 

"He needs skin-on-skin contact," Derek sighs.

Elliot is whimpering against his chest, but is otherwise quiet.

"What is it with you werewolves and being shirtless?" Stiles jokes weakly. 

"Stiles," Derek says, frowning, "it's the skin contact, and the scent. Werewolves need it." 

Stiles' heart rate has picked up, and his face looks slightly guilty. "Yeah, I—okay. Okay, yeah. I'll do that. Uh. You can go back to bed, and I'll do that. Okay?"

It suddenly occurs to Derek that he has only seen Stiles shirtless once or twice since the hospital. 

"Are you... Stiles, you shouldn't be embarrassed to take off your shirt in front of me," Derek says slowly. 

Stiles' eyes go wide. 

Yeah,Derek is officially an idiot.He'll blamethis on the sleep deprivation, too.

"I," Stilesstammers. "You—trust me, you don't want to look. Give me like two months." 

"Why?" Derek asks gently. "Because you have stretch marks from that big, beautiful belly you had? Because your body is still soft and round from carrying our pup?" 

Stiles makes a face. "Well, sure, when you put it like that..."

Dereksmiles softly and nods at Stiles, then looks down at Elliot.

Stileslooks uncomfortable as he pulls his shirt off, but no more uncomfortable than he had the first time Derek had seen him shirtless, eighteen and awkward, or when he'd finally admitted to being horny as hell from pregnancy hormones but avoiding sex because he'd started putting on weight. There's a hint of bashfulness to it that Derek finds adorable.  

Stiles’ belly _is_ soft and round, sagging a little as his body adjusts to the size change, and there is a cluster of thick pink lines just under his belly button. It’s evidence of what Stiles’ body has done to give them a child. It's beautiful.

Derek passes Elliot over, and Stiles holds him carefully against his own bare chest.

Except he angles it so that Elliot’s body is covering most of his belly.

Derek steps forward, closing the distance between them completely, and gently raises Elliot up between them.

“Don’t hide it,” Derek whispers, because now that Elliot is pressed between his parents, surrounded by their scents, he’s completely silent. He wraps one arm around Stiles, and uses the other to gently cup the flesh of his belly. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Stiles exhales and tips his head forward, landing on Derek’s shoulder gently. He presses a kiss to the bare skin there, and doesn’t lift his head.

Elliot snuffles sleepily between them.

 

The next day, Derek does a much-needed grocery run. When he comes home, he can hear Stiles and Elliot in the master bedroom, and Derek half-listens to Stiles’ gentle murmurings as he unpacks the bags. The words aren’t even necessary. The tone itself, interlaced with Elliot’s happy gurgles, is enough to make his heart swell. 

When he’s finished unpacking, he makes his way toward the master bedroom.

“…used to always get the hiccups when you were in my belly, yes you did, and your papa would laugh his ass off because I had this big, jumping belly all the time. But now you don’t get the hiccups, do you? Why is that?”

The door is partway open, and Derek stops just outside.

Stiles is lying on their bed, head propped up with a pillow, Elliot resting on his chest. Stiles is shirtless and Elliot is wearing nothing but a diaper, and Stiles is tracing aimless patterns on Elliot’s tiny back as he speaks, looking utterly smitten.

“And these itty-bitty hands and feet,” Stiles continues, smiling fondly. “You must have been kicking and punching with all your might in there, huh? Sometimes, in the last few weeks, we could even see your tiny little footprint pushing out. I don’t know how you’re going to grow up to be a real adult. How do people start out so tiny and grow up so big?”

Derek closes his eyes, breathing through the _slam_ of love and affection that comes down on him.

“You’ll probably turn out all muscled and strong like your papa, won’t you? God, that’s weird to think about. You, grown up. I don’t think it should be allowed, especially because I have a strong suspicion your teenage years are going to be hell.”

Elliot gurgles, curling and uncurling his tiny fist.

Stiles sighs and slides his finger into Elliot’s palm, letting him grab hold. “I’ll just have to quiz your grandpa for his dad tips, because when it comes to dadding, your grandpa is the best. And _you_ are his favorite now, yes you are, with your little cheeks and your little belly and your—oh, gross, droooool… Elliot, bud, we were totally having a moment.”  

Smiling softly, Derek finally pushes the door open and steps in.

Stiles glances up from where he’s using the duvet to wipe drool off of his chest. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Derek replies, moving toward the bed. This is the first time he’s seen Stiles shirtless in the daylight, and the sight makes him swallow hard.

Stiles flushes under Derek’s gaze. “What?

“You look good like that,” Derek says softly. He sits down on the bed, and smiles when Elliot lifts his head a little, waving his limbs and gurgling as the presence of his other father registers. “Hey, pup.”

“Say ‘Hi, Papa’,” Stiles says, stroking Elliot’s back. “’I finished my whole bottle at lunch today, and only had a little bit of spit-up. It was really tasty.’”

Derek laughs. “Oh yeah?”

“We were both very happy about it,” Stiles says.

“Sit up?” Derek asks, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, and when Stiles obliges he slides between Stiles and the pillows so that Stiles is positioned in the vee of his legs and leaning against his chest. Derek wraps his arms around them both, placing on hand on Elliot’s side and the other across Stiles’ belly, and presses a kiss to the side of Stiles’ head.

“You got eggs from the grocery store, right?” Stiles mumbles. “I texted you.”

“I got eggs,” Derek confirms. “And I got you three different flavors of your fancy-ass coffee creamer.”

Stiles brightens, his head twisting as he tries to look at Derek. “Really? You did?”

“Mm-hm,” Derek says, smiling into Stiles’ hair.

“I love you,” Stiles says reverently. “I love you, and I love coffee, and I love not being pregnant.”

Derek nuzzles him with a quiet rumble, and holds his family close. 


End file.
